The Old King and the New Bride Ch. 01

He steps forward, puts one hand behind my back and scoops my up in his arms. Much like when he carried me out of the church, I'm limp in his arms. But this time it's not from exhaustion or hopelessness. I'm unable to move or talk, so I can't do much more than lay here and wait.

Gently, he deposits me on the bed, flipping the sheets back to slide me under and rolling me onto my side. He follows, pressing the entire length of his body against mine. His cold skin makes me shiver, though the warm blankets help ease the chill a bit.

He loops his arms around me, pulling me close and molding my body to his. He nuzzles my neck, making me shiver again.

"I take it you don't want to play?" His voice is soft, but I can hear the lust and need coursing through it.

He kisses my shoulder and I'm free again. I open my mouth to take a deep breath, stretching involuntarily as I regain control of my body. He tightens his grip on my body. Free as I am, he's not letting me go anywhere.

I shake my head. "No." I'm not in the mood to play.

His hands slide up my torso, cupping my breast in his hands again. "Not even a little?"

He squeezes and massages my breasts in his palms. A tiny spark of lust, no bigger than a grain of sand, stirs in my belly. I force it down. No matter how good this feels, no matter how much I may hate to admit that I want him, I'm in no mood for games. The tricks he's pulled have cost him his chance at another blowjob for the next three days.

"No." I shift slightly, trying to put a little distance between us. I bury my face in one of the many soft pillows and close my eyes, cutting him off.

He groans and reluctantly moves his hands back down to my waist. "Fine."

"Thank you." I settle into my new bed, allowing the warmth and softness to coax me into relaxation.

I feel Lucifer's hands leave my body as he rolls over. He silent for a moment, then I hear him let out a litany of soft moans. He's masturbating, no doubt about the missed opportunity with me. At this point, I don't care. He can jerk off all her wants. Right now, I'm exhausted.

I close my eyes and exhale loudly. I feel my body sinking into the soft sheets, hear my heartbeat subtly growing slower. The sounds of Lucifer's moaning become muffle and the world falls away as I drift into sleep.

* * *

I dream that night. It's a strange dream, even by my standards. I'm walking down a cavernous hallway lit only by candlelight. The walls are made from huge slabs of dark marble and lined with endless doors on either side. There's no one else in the hallway, just me. An icy wind whips around the corridor, chilling my skin as I walk. I rub my arms to warm myself, but it doesn't do much.

I continue walking, scanning for any sign of life or company. The hall remains empty, and my gut twists with dread. I like having my own space, but I hate being completely alone like this. I peer down the hallway as I walk, hoping to see someone, anyone, while I'm down here. I'd even be happy if I saw my husband. At least then I'd know I'm not completely alone.

I'm too cold to continue, so I dart into one of the many open doors that line the hallway, hoping to find some relief from the chill outside. I slip between the small space of the door -- an enormous piece of wood carved with effigies of humans and demons -- and close it behind me. Finally, a little relief from that damned wind.

I turn around and hold my breath. The room I've picked I filled with mirrors. They line each of the four walls, stretching from the marble floor to the carved ceiling. Small flickering candles offer some light, but not enough to see exactly where I am.

Regaining my balance, I decide to explore. What harm could a room full of mirrors pose besides being nothing more than an illusion and actually lined with spikes? Nothing that I'd be surprised by. This is Hell after all. There's danger everywhere here.

I walk along the cool floor, taking cautious steps as I go. The floor has been polished to a mirror's surface as well, and I can't see any cracks or impurities in its surface that would let me know its real marble. Suddenly, my illusion idea seems much more possible. Still, I keep moving. My curiosity has me itching for answers, and I'm not about to turn around and quit searching just because I'm scared.

I stop dead in my tracks. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my reflection in the enormous mirrors. I turn towards them, facing myself head on, peering through the dim candlelight to see what damage has been down.

I'm quite a sight here. First off, I'm completely naked except for a single layer of translucent silk draped around my hips. My nipples, once a soft pink, are now bright red and swollen. And for good reason: they've been pierced. Small black crystals dangle from thin, inch-long chains attached to tiny gold hoops. My navel is pierced as well, another small stone dangling from a matching gold circle there.

I stare at my reflection, dumfounded. I've never been one to desire body piercings or tattoos; I find them unnecessary and too trendy to be taken seriously. Yet here I stand with both my nipples and my belly violated. I blush at my own reflection, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin than I have in years.

How in the hell?

I continue to stare at my reflection, trying too imagine what circumstance I must have been in to agree to this.

Something warm brushes my skin, dragging me out of my musings. I watch in the mirror as two warm hands glide across my hips, resting on the slender bones and holding me tight. A muscled chest presses against my shoulder blades, making me shiver at the contact. Finally, my husbands head peeks around mine. Bright golden eyes shine in the delicate candlelight, boring into mine through the mirror.

The planes of his face seem more sever than usual, the shadows of the light sharpening the angles of his features. He smiles at me and nuzzles his cheek against my neck.

"You look beautiful," he whispers.

"Thank you." My voice is soft out of embarrassment. I know how much he's lusting after me, and this is the last thing I want him to see.

He continues to smile as one of his warm hands slips down over my hip. His flingers slip between my thighs, finding my clitoris with impossible speed. He circles it lightly with one finger, making me shiver again.

"Why not here?" he asks.

I speak without thinking. "Because I'm scared." It's not what I really wanted to say, but it is the truth.

He places gentle kisses along my neck. "Of what?"

I chew my lip. "The pain. The last ones weren't very enjoyable."

What am I saying? I agreed to this?

He purses his lips for a moment. His hands leave my hip and thighs, skimming over my body and cupping my breasts in his hands. I stifle a moan; they're so warm and soft I almost feel dizzy. He rolls my gilded nipples between his fingers, and I wince from the tiny sparks of pain that echo through my body.

"Tender?" her asks.

I nod, the pain lessening as he continues his gentle teasing.

He kisses my neck again. "It wouldn't be so bad."

"It would still hurt," I counter.

"Only for an instant."

"Down there? I don't think I could take it." I shake my head.

He sighs, disappointed. I'm sure he finds this image of me more than just appealing. Knowing him, though, I'm sure he would have been more pleased to have me go the whole nine yards and get everything pierced. But my dream self is apprehensive and not willing to play his game.

"I think you could," he whispers. He grips the slender chains of my piercings and tugs slightly, making me wince again.

I whimper. That hurts. I'm not a masochist by any standards - I hate pain.

"I think you could." He tugs the chains again. "A little training and stamina in you and you could take all the piercings I could give."

My lip quivers as he tugs harder. I desperately want to get away from him, but I'm frozen in my place. He's holding me hostage without having to touch me. I think it's his eyes. They're so beautifully hypnotic it almost hurts to look at them.

He pulls the chains again and I cry out from the pain.

"Stop," I beg. "Please. That hurts."

His smile returns. "Oh, the things I could do with you. You're so sensitive, Michelle. That gives me more to work with."

I whimper again. He keeps the chains taut, holding them out so my nipples are tormented endlessly. I understand how he got his reputation as a ruthless tyrant of damned souls. This is torture in itself.

"Stop!" I beg again.

His smile turns wicked. "I think not. I want to test just how much you can take. If you're going to be my queen, you need to have a bit more endurance than this."

He loops the chains around his fingers, his wicked smile growing more sinister as my eyes widen. I know what he's going to do, and I'm helpless to fight him off.

"I'll break you in, my sweet queen," he purrs. "Don't you worry about that."

I take one final breath before he jerks hard on the chains. Pain sears through me, burning my breasts and rendering my thoughts useless. I scream in agony, tears rolling down my cheeks as I wonder how much more of this I could take.

* * *

I bolt upright in bed. My breathing is frantic, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. I'm drenched in my own sweat. I scan the room, looking in the numerous shadows for anything that might cause me harm.

Nothing moves. Only the delicate flicker of the sconces provide any movement. I sigh and relax a bit. There's no room of mirrors here. I'm safe in my bedroom, unharmed and warm. I pull the sheets to my chest and close my eyes, trying to regain my balance.

A memory flickers through my mind. The piercings in my dream! Frantic, my eyes snap open as I pull the sheets away from my chest and inspect the damage. My breasts are fine. There's no gold chains hanging from my nipples. No black stones dangling from my bellybutton. I'm unscathed as well. Good. All of that was just a dream and nothing more.

Another memory of my dream bubbles up -- my husband. Was he making me dream that? He certainly could. He's made stranger people imagine worse things. My curiosity stirs. Taking a deep breath, I look over to my side and gaze at my new husband.

Lucifer lays beside me in bed, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. He's so still when he sleeps. The only signs of him being alive are the tiny twitches of his fingers and mouth as he dreams.

I watch him, captivated. He's truly beautiful here. Not that he's ever been hideous, but here, asleep beside me, he's so calm and peaceful he almost doesn't seem real. His soft hair is unruly, his perfect lips are parted just enough to breathe. I can see how God picked him to be the most beautiful. Even sleeping he's almost impossible to imagine.

My inner child bursts to the surface. Like an idiot trapped in a cage with a ravenous sleeping tiger, I have in irresistible urge to touch him. Cautiously, I stretch my hand out towards him keeping my eyes on him in case he wakes up. My fingers barely brush against his cheek, his soft, icy flesh searing my fingertips. I hold my breath as I caress him again, hardly believing that this incredible creature is both unbelievably evil and my husband.

His eyes flicker slightly and I freeze. They flutter open, those bright golden eyes spearing me through the dark. They narrow at me in confusion, and he blinks several times to clear the sleep from his mind.

Shit.

I pull my hand back slowly, chewing my lip in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?" He rolls over and pushes himself up. He sits on the bed staring at me, his unnatural eyes making my heart race.

"Nothing," I lie. "Just a dream."

His flawless brows rise an inch. "What kind of dream?"

I blush and look away. I can't tell him that! It'll put more absurdly evil idea in his head!

"I can't remember..." I hope my hesitation will kill this conversation so I can go back to sleep.

The corners of his mouth twitch. "Was I in this dream of yours?"

I suppose that's safe...

I nod. "Yes."

"With you?" His smile widens.

I nod again.
His smile breaks into a full grin. "And what were we doing?"

I stare at him wide-eyed, my face on fire. I don't dare tell him. "I don't... I can't really..."

He leans forward, his eyes staring into mine, a dark smile on his lips. "You're lying."

I lower my eyes involuntarily, affirming his suspicions.

Still smiling, he grips my shoulders and spins me around, then pulls me back against him. His chest pressed against my shoulders, bringing flashes of my dream into my kind. He loops his arms around my waist and holds me tight, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

"What were we doing?" Hs voice is high, excited to hear the details of my dream.

I swallow loudly, contemplating my choices. If I lie, he'll know and possibly punish me. If I'm honest, he might want to try having me pierced. As frightened as I am to talk, I know that having Lucifer happy is much better than having him pissed.

"We were standing in this room full of mirrors. I don't' know why...there was so many of them." I make my voice as even as I can, trying to hide my anxiety. "We were staring at my reflection."
"Oh? Why were we staring?" His hands start to roam my body, caressing my waist and hips with long fingers.

Oh boy. Here it comes.

I swallow again. "I was ...pierced."

He perks up, his body tensing against mine. "Pierced? Oh, tell me more." I can hear the excitement in his voice. He leans against me again, his hands never stopping their exploration.

I sigh. "My...nipples and my bellybutton."

Something hard twitches against my hip. It takes me a barely a heartbeat to recognize what it is. He's aroused, just as I thought he'd be. Now I'm really nervous, and I start mentally praying that he won't suggest such an awful idea.

His hands finally stop roaming my body, coming to rest at my breasts. He cups them gently, rolling my nipples between his fingers. They harden instantly, and I squirm against him.

"That's a very titillating idea, my dear," he purrs in my ear.

Damn.

"We might have to try that sometime." He massages my breasts, making my toes curl.

Now you've done it! I knew this would set him off!

"I don't know..." I trail off.

Oh, fuck! What now? How the hell do I diffuse this?

"Why not?" He's honestly curious.

I shift uncomfortably against him. "I don't like pain."

"Who said it would be painful?"

Aren't nipples piercings usually uncomfortable to start with?

I pause for a moment, confused. "I thought..."

"Oh, there are ways of making it far less painful than you think." He tweaks my nipples gently." I could even make you enjoy it, if you wanted."

Well, that would certainly make it less frightening.

I bite my lip again, an idea suddenly popping into my head. This entire marriage is based off my mother's failed deal. Maybe I can use a deal to my advantage. If I have to go through his evil plan, maybe he does, too.

"I...I have an idea." My heart is racing at my plan.

"Oh? And what would this idea be?" He's happy now, excited that I'm willing to go along.

"Say I was interested in doing your thought. About getting pierced."

"Yes?" I can hear the excitement in his voice. He presses his palms against my nipples, making me shiver from the cold.

"I thought...maybe we could make it fair. Even." My gut twists in worry.

He never stops teasing my breasts. "How so?"

Thank God. He's going along with it.

"Like...if I get a piercing, you get one, too." My stomach does a back flip as I wait for his answer.

He laughs, the sound inhumanly beautiful and impossibly seductive. "Oh, Michelle! That is an idea!"

I squirm again. Now I've really done it.

He pulls me close, his lips pressing against my neck. "I love it. Do I get to pierce you?"

I relax a bit, relieved that he's not angry. "I-I suppose so. Only if I get to do the same to you."

Whoa! Where did that come from?

He groans and he lays back into our bed, pulling me with him. I'm locked against him, laying on top of his body, staring up at the ceiling.

He kisses my neck again. "I love it. Piercing each other. What a way to bind us together."

Indeed. What better way to let others know you're taken than showing them your matching monogrammed nipple rings?

"It's a deal, then. You and I will have so much fun with this, Michelle. I can hardly wait." He pauses for a moment, and I feel another risqué idea coming on. "You know...we still have to consummate this marriage of ours. As far at the world's concerned, we're still not properly married yet."

I scowl. Yes, I know we're not but I've been promised the night off and I intend to have my own time tonight. I try to squirm away, but his hands fly to my breasts, freezing me in place. Damn his touch. It gets me every time.

"What do you say, Michelle?" He croons in my ear as he massages my breasts. "I know how tired you are, how exhausted. How about a nice, quick fuck to seal the deal? It'll be fast and easy, and you can straight back to sleep once we're finished."

Surprisingly, the idea is a welcome one. That damned spark of lust is back, only now it's grown into a small campfire. It makes me squirm again and I try to quell the need building between my thighs. But my attempts are in vain. At nineteen and with no sexual experience aside from giving blowjobs, my hormones are begging me to give in. They want to know what it's like to have my body ravaged and find that warm place of bliss I've had to find myself for so long.

What's the matter? they ask. Why not let someone else do the work for once?

I sigh to myself. Fine. A quick fuck should be enough to drown the fire in my veins.

"Okay," I whisper.

"Excellent!"

Lucifer rolls us over so that my face is pressed into the sheets. He slides off me and rears up, gripping my hips so my ass is lifted off the bed. I move my arms under me so I'm somewhat supported.

His chilled palm caresses the bare flesh of my ass, the cold making me shiver.

"Michelle, you are a delight to stare at."

His hand moves from my butt, slipping lower. His fingers brush my thighs, sending a fresh flurry of shivers coursing through my body. The move higher, slipping between my labia and gently stroking the entrance to my body. My toes curl involuntarily and my breath hitches in my throat.

I hear his muffled laugh behind me. "And so damn responsive. You're going to be so much fun to break."

I twist my fingers into the bed sheets and exhale loudly. I want this -- my body's practically begging for it -- but I hate the way he draws things out just to mess with me.

His fingers move without warning, sinking into me and gently stroking me from the inside. I freeze, the small bubble of fire in my belly growing into a full-blow inferno. God, that feels good! His fingers massage and caress my favorite spot, making me tremble and relax a bit.

Silently, I damn my family for never explaining the basics of sex to me. Mom had pulled me out of every sex ed class available, knowing that knowledge like that might diminish my chances of arriving to Lucifer a virgin. Even masturbation was something I had to discover out of my own curiosity. If I had known it would feel like this, I'd have pounced on my high school crush long ago.

Toying with my body was a good card for him to play. I'm moaning softly now, swaying my hips back and forth, begging him for more attention. He laughs again but acquiesces, pressing harder against my sweet spot. I drop my head into the pillow and groan into the softness. He certainly knows how to please a girl, I'll give him that.